, and shone with silver and gold.
Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, "The
Emperor of Japan's Nightingale is poor beside that of the Emperor
in China."

"That is capital!" said they all, and he who had brought the toy bird at
once got the title Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer.

"Now they must sing together: what a duet that will be!"

And so they had to sing together; but it did not sound very well, for
the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and the toy bird sang waltzes.

"That's not its fault," said the Play-master: "it's quite perfect, and
very much in my style."

Now the toy bird was to sing alone. It made just as much of a hit as the
real one, and then it was so much more fine to look at--it shone like
bracelets and breastpins.

Three-and-thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and yet was not
tired. The people would gladly have heard it again, but the Emperor said
that the living Nightingale ought to sing a little something. But where
was it? No one had noticed that it had flown away, out of the open
window, back to its green woods.

"But what is become of it?" asked the Emperor.

Then all the courtiers scolded, and thought the Nightingale was a very
thankless creature.

"We have the best bird, after all," said they.

And so the toy bird had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth
time they had listened to the same piece. For all that, they did not
know it quite by heart, for it was so very difficult. And the
Play-master praised the bird highly; yes, he declared that it was better
than the real Nightingale, not only in its feathers and its many
beautiful diamonds, but inside as well.

"For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, your Imperial
Majesty, with the real Nightingale one can never make sure what is
coming, but in this toy bird everything is settled. It is just so, and
not any other way. One can explain it; one can open it, and can show how
much thought went to making it, where the waltzes come from, how they
go, and how one follows another."

"Those are quite our own ideas," they all said. And the Play-master got
leave to show the bird to the people on the next Sunday. The people
were to hear it sing too, said the Emperor; and they did hear it, and
were as much pleased as if they had all had tea, for that's quite the
Chinese fashion; and they all said "Oh!" and held their forefingers up
in the air and nodded. But the poor Fisherman, who had